


Boys

by levendis



Series: Prompt Fics [118]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Other, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 14:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12322794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levendis/pseuds/levendis
Summary: There is more than one of everything.





	Boys

**Author's Note:**

> for theenigmaofriversong, who prompted: I just need the solace of knowing that there is Eleventh Doctor/Eleventh Ganger Doctor smut out there.

In 2007, Earth-standard-chronology-adjusted-for-temporal-whatsits, they are watching a copy of themself walk away into a parallel universe, arm in arm with the human woman they love. In 2010 there is a monster staring them down, wearing their face, threatening the destruction of the planet. In 2x098kB, Gallifrey-relative time, they are cautioning the current head of the CIA against cloning operatives, even if these skirmishes and battles at whatever contested borders have gone on too long, even if there are so few of them left to fight. In the second century of the War, the Cwejen army makes camp outside The Great Divide. In the fourth century of the War, Compassion comes to rest on a desolate, uninhabited, and undiscovered planet. Right now, right now: there are two Amy Ponds, and one of them is worth saving.

There is more than one of everything. The Doctor inhales, and steps towards the creature wearing their life.

 

 

* * *

 

Everything repeats, iterates -  
There are parallel universes, where they do the same things, only not exactly. There are parallel universes and they are watching themselves walk away -

 

* * *

 

“That wasn’t how I intended things to work out,” they say.

“We had plans,” not-them says. “If only people could do -”

“What’s right,” they finish. “What they’re meant to do. Go where they’re supposed to go.”

Other-Doctor understands, of course. They always do.

 

* * *

 

 _You knew, you knew, you knew what would happen_. An entity that learns from exposure and copies on contact. You threw your hearts into the pool, let the sonic screwdriver linger. An infinity sustained for an eternity. Or, well, what you had for breakfast, and five seconds, but close enough. _Are you really surprised this happened?_

Physic communication, maybe, given a theoretical exact facsimile of their mediocre abilities - they should be on the same wavelength, after all - or an imagined conversation. They know what they’ll say. Close enough. Them, not-them, close enough to touch, although not touching. This is fun, and this is easy (slipping off the ends of sentences, moving in tandem), and this is something they had a word for, once.

(And could not-them, other-them, given an infinite or nearly-so capability to transform, to flex into place; could they manage to fit Gallifreyan back into their mouth? It’s a thought, shame there won’t be time to explore it.)

 

Not-Amy doesn’t understand, and they don’t know why her fear makes them angry, but it does. They are close enough to touch, the two of them. Doctors Who: a double act. The set-up, the punch-line, the appreciative laugh. They don’t touch. The world isn’t ending but they’re all maybe dying and they should pay more attention. Not-Amy is afraid and they are pressing down, down on that itch, that wound. She’ll have to come to terms with this soon enough.

 

They’re close, closer than close, more them than they are. Does the bowtie untie? Is the silk lining of their jacket slippery-cold, the tweed rough and heavy? Do the seams of their shirt cuffs scratch their wrists? Does the detail exist, or is it created upon discovery? If, say, they were to take not-them’s (other-them’s) coat off, shirt off, all the distracting scratchy-smooth texture done away with - would they be making the body they found underneath?

They should be paying more attention, but the thing is: a plan always comes when they aren’t looking for it. So. Back to the most important part. Not the mortal danger, that’s old hat. This, this thing. Existing here and just to the left of here. They can hear them breathing. The heartsbeat. Is it _someone else can be me, instead of me_ or is it _there I am_ or is it _finally, someone who understands_ or is it -

The Doctor used to have a word to describe this feeling, not anymore. It won’t fit in their mouth. Maybe it’d fit into other-them’s mouth, or into the body they’d make when they took off their clothes. If they were to, say, push other-them against the wall, and the tweed felt like tweed and the cotton felt like cotton and skin felt like skin, and if they taught other-them their skeleton and nervous system, the buzz in their blood, if they touched other-them the way they know they like it - would the word fit inside them?

 

Build a house around it, around your ego and your touch-starved desperation and your need to be known and your cheap, shit arousal. A joke is the fence, a coward’s moralizing is the gate. Two preachers preaching, and they’re both so pragmatic. _Open the doors, and here’s all the people._

(One of the few words they remember, even if they cannot say it, translates roughly around the idea of _the specific narcissism of meeting another version of you and wondering if it’d be masturbation or incest and what if you were to, you know, fuck yourself._ Let it be known that they recall at least one thing from their Temporal Ethics courses.)

 

* * *

 

Everything repeats; they iterate. Under a particular set of suns they are Theta and they are making a series of mistakes. On another planet, they are dying to save the life of someone they’ve only just met. On another planet, they are resolving not to let emotions get in the way of winning. On another planet, they are dying again, because they’ve forgotten the lesson they learned last time. On another planet they are watching everything crashing down. History repeats, despite their good intentions. There is more than one of everything; there are many of them.

Other-Amy is afraid and Rory is kind and they are, they are. What.

Close enough to touch. They are leaning towards themselves and they feel - despite the situation, the about-to-die, the textbook moral dilemma with a surely clever solution - they feel fine. They feel alright. They’re about to stumble on a plan. _Watch and learn._


End file.
